I Say No

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER XXIV. MR. ROOK.

  Emily's first day in the City library proved to be a day wasted.

  She began reading the back numbers of the newspaper at haphazard,without any definite idea of what she was looking for. Conscious of theerror into which her own impatience had led her, she was at a losshow to retrace the false step that she had taken. But two alternativespresented themselves: either to abandon the hope of making anydiscovery--or to attempt to penetrate Alban 's motives by means of pureguesswork, pursued in the dark.

  How was the problem to be solved? This serious question troubled her allthrough the evening, and kept her awake when she went to bed. In despairof her capacity to remove the obstacle that stood in her way, shedecided on resuming her regular work at the Museum--turned her pillow toget at the cool side of it--and made up her mind to go asleep.

  In the case of the wiser animals, the Person submits to Sleep. It isonly the superior human being who tries the hopeless experiment ofmaking Sleep submit to the Person. Wakeful on the warm side of thepillow, Emily remained wakeful on the cool side--thinking again andagain of the interview with Alban which had ended so strangely.

  Little by little, her mind passed the limits which had restrained itthus far. Alban's conduct in keeping his secret, in the matter ofthe newspapers, now began to associate itself with Alban's conduct inkeeping that other secret, which concealed from her his suspicions ofMrs. Rook.

  She started up in bed as the next possibility occurred to her.

  In speaking of the disaster which had compelled Mr. and Mrs. Rook toclose the inn, Cecilia had alluded to an inquest held on the body of themurdered man. Had the inquest been mentioned in the newspapers, at thetime? And had Alban seen something in the report, which concerned Mrs.Rook?

  Led by the new light that had fallen on her, Emily returned to thelibrary the next morning with a definite idea of what she had to lookfor. Incapable of giving exact dates, Cecilia had informed her that thecrime was committed "in the autumn." The month to choose, in beginningher examination, was therefore the month of August.

  No discovery rewarded her. She tried September, next--with the sameunsatisfactory results. On Monday the first of October she met with someencouragement at last. At the top of a column appeared a telegraphicsummary of all that was then known of the crime. In the number for theWednesday following, she found a full report of the proceedings at theinquest.

  Passing over the preliminary remarks, Emily read the evidence with theclosest attention.

  -------------

  The jury having viewed the body, and having visited an outhouse in whichthe murder had been committed, the first witness called was Mr. BenjaminRook, landlord of the Hand-in-Hand inn.

  On the evening of Sunday, September 30th, 1877, two gentlemen presentedthemselves at Mr. Rook's house, under circumstances which especiallyexcited his attention.

  The youngest of the two was short, and of fair complexion. He carried aknapsack, like a gentleman on a pedestrian excursion; his manners werepleasant; and he was decidedly good-looking. His companion, older,taller, and darker--and a finer man altogether--leaned on his arm andseemed to be exhausted. In every respect they were singularly unlikeeach other. The younger stranger (excepting little half-whiskers) wasclean shaved. The elder wore his whole beard. Not knowing their names,the landlord distinguished them, at the coroner's suggestion, as thefair gentleman, and the dark gentleman.

  It was raining when the two arrived at the inn. There were signs in theheavens of a stormy night.

  On accosting the landlord, the fair gentleman volunteered the followingstatement:

  Approaching the village, he had been startled by seeing the darkgentleman (a total stranger to him) stretched prostrate on the grass atthe roadside--so far as he could judge, in a swoon. Having a flask withbrandy in it, he revived the fainting man, and led him to the inn.

  This statement was confirmed by a laborer, who was on his way to thevillage at the time.

  The dark gentleman endeavored to explain what had happened to him. Hehad, as he supposed, allowed too long a time to pass (after an earlybreakfast that morning), without taking food: he could only attributethe fainting fit to that cause. He was not liable to fainting fits. Whatpurpose (if any) had brought him into the neighborhood of Zeeland, hedid not state. He had no intention of remaining at the inn, except forrefreshment; and he asked for a carriage to take him to the railwaystation.

  The fair gentleman, seeing the signs of bad weather, desired to remainin Mr. Rook's house for the night, and proposed to resume his walkingtour the next day.

  Excepting the case of supper, which could be easily provided, thelandlord had no choice but to disappoint both his guests. In his smallway of business, none of his customers wanted to hire a carriage--evenif he could have afforded to keep one. As for beds, the few rooms whichthe inn contained were all engaged; including even the room occupied byhimself and his wife. An exhibition of agricultural implements hadbeen opened in the neighborhood, only two days since; and a publiccompetition between rival machines was to be decided on the comingMonday. Not only was the Hand-in-Hand inn crowded, but even theaccommodation offered by the nearest town had proved barely sufficientto meet the public demand.

  The gentlemen looked at each other and agreed that there was no help forit but to hurry the supper, and walk to the railway station--a distanceof between five and six miles--in time to catch the last train.

  While the meal was being prepared, the rain held off for a while. Thedark man asked his way to the post-office and went out by himself.

  He came back in about ten minutes, and sat down afterward to supper withhis companion. Neither the landlord, nor any other person in the publicroom, noticed any change in him on his return. He was a grave, quietsort of person, and (unlike the other one) not much of a talker.

  As the darkness came on, the rain fell again heavily; and the heavenswere black.

  A flash of lightning startled the gentlemen when they went to the windowto look out: the thunderstorm began. It was simply impossible thattwo strangers to the neighborhood could find their way to the station,through storm and darkness, in time to catch the train. With or withoutbedrooms, they must remain at the inn for the night. Having alreadygiven up their own room to their lodgers, the landlord and landlady hadno other place to sleep in than the kitchen. Next to the kitchen, andcommunicating with it by a door, was an outhouse; used, partly as ascullery, partly as a lumber-room. There was an old truckle-bed amongthe lumber, on which one of the gentlemen might rest. A mattress on thefloor could be provided for the other. After adding a table and a basin,for the purposes of the toilet, the accommodation which Mr. Rook wasable to offer came to an end.

  The travelers agreed to occupy this makeshift bed-chamber.

  The thunderstorm passed away; but the rain continued to fall heavily.Soon after eleven the guests at the inn retired for the night. There wassome little discussion between the two travelers, as to which of themshould take possession of the truckle-bed. It was put an end to by thefair gentleman, in his own pleasant way. He proposed to "toss upfor it"--and he lost. The dark gentleman went to bed first; the fairgentleman followed, after waiting a while. Mr. Rook took his knapsackinto the outhouse; and arranged on the table his appliances for thetoilet--contained in a leather roll, and including a razor--ready foruse in the morning.

  Having previously barred the second door of the outhouse, which led intothe yard, Mr. Rook fastened the other door, the lock and bolts of whichwere on the side of the kitchen. He then secured the house door, and theshutters over the lower windows. Returning to the kitchen, he noticedthat the time was ten minutes short of midnight. Soon afterward, he andhis wife went to bed.

  Nothing happened to disturb Mr. and Mrs. Rook during the night.

  At a quarter to seven the next morning, he got up; his wife being stillasleep. He had been instructed to wake the gentlemen early; and heknocked at their door. Receiving no answer, after repeatedly knocking,he opened
the door and stepped into the outhouse.

  At this point in his evidence, the witness's recollections appeared tooverpower him. "Give me a moment, gentlemen," he said to the jury. "Ihave had a dreadful fright; and I don't believe I shall get over it forthe rest of my life."

  The coroner helped him by a question: "What did you see when you openedthe door?"

  Mr. Rook answered: "I saw the dark man stretched out on his bed--dead,with a frightful wound in his throat. I saw an open razor, stained withsmears of blood, at his side."

  "Did you notice the door, leading into the yard?"

  "It was wide open, sir. When I was able to look round me, the othertraveler--I mean the man with the fair complexion, who carried theknapsack--was nowhere to be seen."

  "What did you do, after making these discoveries?"

  "I closed the yard door. Then I locked the other door, and put thekey in my pocket. After that I roused the servant, and sent him to theconstable--who lived near to us--while I ran for the doctor, whosehouse was at the other end of our village. The doctor sent his groom, onhorseback, to the police-office in the town. When I returned to theinn, the constable was there--and he and the police took the matter intotheir own hands."

  "You have nothing more to tell us?"

  "Nothing more."